


It's Natural (to be Afraid)

by aykayem



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 01:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aykayem/pseuds/aykayem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco's never been good at killing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Natural (to be Afraid)

Draco swallowed thickly, staring down his wand at the young man before him, just a few years his senior. They'd never actually been that familiar with each other, what with Percy having left Hogwarts when Draco was still young - too young to care - but it hadn't really gotten in the way that much. They still weren't that close. They still didn't know the other's middle name, or their favourite colour, or what subject they really couldn't stand. They didn't know what made the other tick above all else, nor the things that drove them to be the best that they could be. Draco would never be able to say 'I knew Percy Weasley' with any level of proper conviction, though another verb or two did come to mind.

Was intimate with. Could have fallen for. Enjoyed spending time with.

Killed.

For as much as he preferred the former statements, there was no denying that no matter how things turned out, Percy would be dead by the end of it, and it would be Draco's fault. His fault for having dragged Percy into it at all, simply by the means of a facial twitch at the sound of his name. For not being good enough at Occlumency to have kept those thoughts hidden from the Dark Lord. He hoped that his face showed enough guilt and fear and pain at them being in that situation for Percy to eventually forgive him. 

The idea of Draco being able to kill at all was almost ludicrous, though: he hadn't been able to do it in sixth year, when it came down to Dumbledore or his own family. He hadn't been able to go beyond the basic tortures - ignoring completely that he had probably undone many a person mentally, leaving them in a state so painful that death would have been a welcome change - when the Dark Lord had begun to inhabit his home. Perhaps now, since Lucius and Narcissa had become prisoners in their own home, forced to watch their son become a cold-blooded killer before their eyes, Draco would actually be able to kill. When the threat of his parents dying was a very real thing, able to happen with just two simple little words, if the Dark Lord was feeling particularly impatient that day. Or perhaps their deaths would be slow and tedious and at the hand of his aunt Bellatrix, armed with just a knife and her own special brand of insanity.

Draco had been forced to make a snap decision at that point: his family or the man he had somehow grown close to. He hadn't had enough time to put himself in Percy's shoes, to figure out how Molly Weasley would feel once she heard the news, though he didn't doubt that he would probably find out exactly what she thought of him fairly soon after the deed had been done. The sooner, the better, he decided.

He inhaled, exhaled, and closed his eyes, trying to force the look on Percy's face out of his mind, like that would make it easier. It didn't. He swallowed again, trying to rid himself of the knot in his throat, and let his eyes open again, taking in the minor details of the redhead's posture, resigned but still oddly challenging. His glasses sat beside him, one lens shattered, but that didn't change anything about the way Percy was still able to stare into his very soul. Even without speaking, it was like he was trying to get something across: that Draco was better than all of this, that it didn't have to end this way. Draco made a face, pleading for a proper answer that wasn't so cryptic, but Percy shook his head, a gesture almost immeasurably tiny. Unnoticed, if he hadn't been watching for it. The Dark Lord missed it.

Grey eyes flickered away from the man knelt down before him for a second, over to the side to where the Dark Lord stood, his own wand held loosely between spidery fingers, as if he believed himself to be above proper grip. Grey eyes slid to the other side, making sure that they were alone - the other Death Eaters were being raucous in the other room, surely celebrating a murder that hadn't even occurred yet.

He inhaled again, finally daring to utter those two words that would topple the war in the favour of one side or the other.


End file.
